Trainers

I must have started this story many months ago, in an attempt to write something to match the popularity of "Screamer", but it just wouldn't write.  In fact I have revisited it so many times that I'm not sure if it is the same story I originally envisaged.  The strange thing is that I had the story fixed firmly in my head.  I knew exactly what was going to happen and I felt the fear, panic and (worst of all) the hope that Johnny Sillitoe felt.  It just wouldn't get itself down on the paper.

Anyway I have finally finished it so maybe I can get on with something else now.

Trainers

Johnny Sillitoe knelt down in the hallway to lace up his brand new trainers.  This was going to be their very first outing; just a gentle run to break them in.  They had cost him a lot of money, but he hoped they would be worth it in the end.  They felt comfortable and he was really rather proud of them. 

This was a perfect day for the run.  It was early spring and the sun was bright but not particularly warm.  It hadn’t rained for a few days, so the ground was soft but not soggy.  No one was likely to want to contact him and he intended to leave his phone at home.  This was going to be between him and nature; exactly how he liked it. 

He performed a few stretches in front of the mirror in the hallway watching himself critically as he did so.  Not bad he thought, but then a pretty abstemious life had led to a pretty fit body and one that his last girlfriend had found desirable.  It was a shame that Sarah had been so clingy; if she had simply enjoyed his company for what it was and what it offered, they might still be together instead of breaking up as they had last weekend.  There were tears of course but they couldn’t be helped and now he had this wonderful day to break in his new trainers with no worries about anyone getting in his way.

He stepped outside the front door, turned his face towards the sun feeling its gentle heat on him and started to run towards the nearby woods.

By the time he had reached the edge of the woods he was already in rhythm.  He could hear his breathing in time with the pad of his new trainers.  They were feeling good on his feet.  

He paused at the edge of the wood to fix his MP3 player earphones into his ears, selected a rock playlist and set it to loud.  Right, he thought, here we go, let’s see how the shoes manage off road.  He entered the wood following the rutted track into the heart of this 30 acre patch of greenery.  He became totally absorbed in his running and his thoughts.  The music shut out the rest of the world and he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings.  His thoughts flitted to the relationship that he had just ended.  It was for the best.  People just got in the way.  He hardly got in touch with anyone these days except electronically and even email and the social networking sites got on his nerves now.  He was happiest working from home on his computer and only meeting with real people when he absolutely had to, and at the end of a day with his computer, his nightly runs were the perfect relaxation.

He was really into his rhythm now and hardly felt the ground beneath his feet.  The gentle breeze blew against his face cooling his sweat before it had time to gather on his brow.  His feet seemed to automatically jump over the ruts in the dirt track through the woods landing perfectly on the other side.  He had run this way many times in his old trainers but they had become so worn that they had begun to hurt his feet.  It was with great reluctance that he had gone to buy new trainers, hoping that he could buy an identical pair but inevitably finding that the manufacturers had stopped making that design.  The specialist shop had recommended a pair at a considerable cost, but the assistant had reminded him that they would be worth every penny if they worked well.  The thought had crossed his mind that they would be a waste of every penny if they hadn’t worked but they had felt very good on his feet in the shop and he was secretly proud of the fact that he was such a committed runner that he needed to buy such an expensive pair.

As he ran his thoughts were interrupted by a niggling irritation in his right trainer.  He had somehow picked up a stone and it was grinding against his heel.  He ran on for a while hoping that it would somehow dislodge, but it was no good, it had ruined his mood.  He stopped by the road, crouched down and took his trainer off.

*******

Mary was really taken with Jake.  She’d been twocking with other guys, but that had usually been at night and all they had done was drive around the estate in some beat up Escort or Fiesta or something.  Jake was different, he knew how to drive fast; he could even handbrake turn.  The last car before this one was a BMW and that could really travel.  She loved the buzz of going fast and racing round corners.  Jake always had some great stuff with him as well.  When they’d finished with the car Jake always torched it in some out of the way place so that the law couldn’t identify them.  That meant a bit of a walk back but with Jake that was OK. 

Mary had skipped out of school today and met up with Jake in the town.  They had taken some stuff and hung around for a bit until Jake had suddenly said he was bored and that they should do something different.  We need to nick a car he said, but not the usual crap, something else.  He must have been thinking about it for a while because he said he knew what he wanted and where he could get it.  He led her out of town a short way until they came to a tree lined street with cars parked all along it.  There was no one about and he walked up the middle of the road in that confident way he had.  Mary walked on the pavement keeping pace with him saying nothing.  She’d done this before.  She kept an eye open for anyone coming up the pavement.  Jake stopped opposite what looked like an old Land Rover that had been stripped of some of its body panels.  It had an exhaust that pointed into the air and had very fat chunky tyres.  Almost before she knew it, Jake was in the car with the engine running.  She climbed up into the passenger seat and Jake let in the clutch and sped away down the road.

This was so different to the other cars that they had ridden in.  It was very high off the ground and the ride was uncomfortably bouncy.  Jake drove out of town towards the woods in the distance.  He said that this car needed to be off road.  Mary sat in the passenger seat mesmerised by Jake’s handling of this strange vehicle.  They drove along until they came to a ninety degree bend in the road beyond which were the woods.  Instead of following the road Jake carried on at the same speed and crashed through the old wooden fence that bordered the wood.  Mary screamed in delight and glanced over at Jake.  He was grinning madly and fighting the steering wheel as the car bucked over the rough ground.  He tried to maintain the speed, but realised that he could not manoeuvre round the trees unless he slowed down a bit.  After a few minutes he came upon a track and steered the Land Rover onto it.  He could get his speed up now and pushed the car as fast as he could, crashing through undergrowth and breaking saplings as he went.  The car hit a large tree a glancing blow and shook them both about a bit but they weren’t hurt.  Mary took out two cigarettes and lit one of them with a lot of difficulty, partly because of the bouncing of the car and partly because she couldn’t stop giggling.  When she had managed to light the first cigarette she leaned over to place it in Jake’s mouth, but just as he opened his mouth for it, the car gave a huge jolt and she dropped the cigarette in his lap.  Jake took his hands of the wheel and patted at his lap to knock the burning cigarette onto the floor.  Mary joined in, giggling.  Without Jake’s hands on the wheel the car bucked and weaved all over the track bouncing off trees and throwing them all over the cabin of the car.  Jake managed to get a grip on the wildly spinning steering wheel and slowed the Land Rover to a stop.  He clambered out of the cab and looked back where they had been.  They had rutted the soft earth and there were signs of damage on a number of the trees and rather absurdly, a single trainer lying by the side of the track.  He got back into the Land Rover and joined Mary who was still giggling.  He drove more carefully out of the woods and headed for a country lane not far from the town.  He set fire to the car and they started to walk back.

******

Johnny never heard the Land Rover coming and never felt the impact as it flung him through the trees and scrub to lie half in and half out of a ditch some ten feet from the edge of the track.  When he came to, he felt the pain in his head but couldn’t seem to move.  He passed out again.

When he came round again darkness had fallen.  He felt no real pain, but was cold and frightened.  He was thirsty.  How long was it you could live without water?  Someone would find him.  This was the UK for goodness sake; people didn’t have accidents and then not get found.  But how will anyone know he was here.  He wasn’t on the track and there may be no sign that he had ever been in these woods. There was his trainer.  He remembered.  He had stopped to shake a stone from his shoe.  He had taken his shoe off and then whatever happened had happened.  His trainer will be out there; a brand new expensive trainer.  Someone will notice it and investigate.  He drifted off into unconsciousness again.

When he came round again it was day.  He was aware of how dry his mouth felt, and how disorientated he felt.  His mind wandered into the most bizarre daydreams.  All he could see was the branches of the trees above him.  He watched the birds and could hear them talking to each other.  He could see two magpies talking to each other.  Was it two for joy?  Someone would come.  He could hear the rooks in the trees above him cawing as if they were a concert orchestra.  He imagined that he could hear the melody as it washed over him.  They were all calling for help for him.  Why was no one listening?  The magpies had come down from the tree and were walking towards him.  Magpies have such purposeful walks.  One came right up to his head.  He could just see him if he turned his eyes to the extreme left.  The other one hopped onto his chest and cocked his head sideways to look at him.  He couldn’t watch both of them together.  He felt a sharp peck on his left ear.  He turned his eyes to the left again and the magpie moved away cautiously.  He felt a peck on his chin.  He turned his eyes on the magpie on his chest which moved to the right side of his head.  This wasn’t really happening, he was just imagining it.  A peck on his left ear, then on his right ear.  Moving his eyes kept them back.  He must keep moving his eyes.  They were afraid to attack him while he was alive.  He kept his eyes open and watched the magpies.

*******

He was found a few hours later by a man walking his dog who called for an ambulance.  He was still alive, but died later in hospital of multiple wounds consistent with being struck by a vehicle.   Two things puzzled the paramedics who attended him: how unlikely it was to have been run over by a vehicle in the woods, and how and why both eyes had been removed.

Kings

Sorry for the considerable delay in getting anything onto this blog, I simply couldn't manage to finish anything, and then couldn't start.  This was mostly because I was determined to write a horror story and had one all mapped out in my head, but it just wouldn't write.  I'll get back to it sometime and see if it has improved at all.

I know from the stats I get from you guys reading my blog (thank you for that), that you prefer my stories to my poems, but I wonder whether in fact you are simply put off by the fact that the story is in verse and that each line rhymes.  Personally I rather like what this does to the story, although it does lend itself  more to performance than to reading, and anyway I would say that wouldn't I.

Anyway, here it is, a story in rhyme to tell the tale of the festive season.

Kings

When I was young I earned my keep as servant to a lord

He worked me more and paid me less than he could well afford.

I tended to his clothing and his food and to his drink,

And left him on his own a lot so he could sit and think.

He said his wealth was in his mind; a wealth you cannot hold,

But I know best his wealth was real and counted out in gold.

My wealthy lord had wealthy friends and they too thought a lot

(So much to learn when you’re a have and not a poor have not).

They’d call upon my master’s house and join him in his thought

Or study manuscripts they’d found or papers that they’d brought.

“Ahmed” they’d call (for that’s my name), “bring us some food and drink.

“We need to be sustained with wine, and sweetmeats help us think”

Of course I served my master well, I had no other choice

But none of it fulfilled my mind or made my soul rejoice.

And so these pampered learned lords would while away the day

With reading and with thinking and with nothing much to say

Until my master Melchior one day called out to me

“Go saddle up the camels; you’d better make it three.

“Victual up the caravan we’ll be away a while

“And pack a bag yourself” he said “We’re travelling in style”

That meant of course that I‘d be there to dress and preen these fops

As well as feed the camels at our, no doubt frequent, stops.

Earlier that afternoon around came Balthazar

Who huddled up with Melchior to chat about some star.

Then Gaspar rushed excited in and gabbled out the news

That Dan’el and Balaam had both foretold that all the Jews

Would get a new Messiah or at least a brand new King;

That this, tied in with this new star, was really just the thing

They’d all been waiting for so long and time was now quite tight

And they must all be saddled up and set to go tonight.

Of course the preparations took me very many days

And all my lords would do at night was hang around and gaze

Up in the sky into the west and stand around like fools

Until at last I’d packed our bags and loaded all the mules.

Lord Gaspar and Lord Balthazar were very fancy friends

Who’d show off all their fine new gowns and follow fashion trends

And oh they loved their unctuants, their perfumes and pomade

Unlike my own Lord Melchior, his tastes were rather staid.

His pref’rences could trace their roots way back to times of old

Like many more before and since he kept his wealth in gold.

A mule was set aside for each of these three lords to load

With treasures of their choice alone before we hit the road.

Thus it was that Balthazar with frankincense did weigh

His mule to nearly breaking point, but who am I to say

That this was any worse than that of Gaspar who did pack

His mule with jars of Myrrh, while quite concealed inside a sack

Lord Melchior hid bars of gold and strapped them to a beast.

And thus our caravan was set from greatest and to least

In spite of camels and of mules not one was I to ride;

My Lords climbed up upon their steeds and I walked on beside.

We travelled on at nights and sat to eat at break of dawn

And journeyed on awhile until the brightening sun had worn

A path to highest heavens then, beneath our shelt’ring tent,

We slept until the sun declined and once again had bent

His head below the earth and then we travelled on

Until the sun rose up again and all the night had gone.

Before we slept these worthy lords would check their treasure trove

Ensuring that their wealth was there and that no sneaky cove

Had dipped a thieving hand inside and scooped some myrrh or gold

Or frankincense, though truth be known they would have needs been bold

To get away with such a crime and realise it’s worth

For these lords worshipped nought so well in heaven or on earth.

And so we travelled on until the star (it seemed to them)

Rested near a little town that’s known as Bethlehem.

My lords consulted all their books, then thought and talked a bit

And came to the conclusion that considering that it

Portended a new ruler for the kingdom, then the thing

To do most properly was tell the current king.

So (after checking on their wealth) we trudged a further night

And then far in the distance and by daybreak’s softest light

Jerusalem, King Herod’s seat, appeared as silhouette

It’s mighty temple still half built, the scaffold round it yet.

The caravan is called to halt, my lords they then dismount

They talk awhile and then decide there’s time enough to count

Their wealth again, and so each bag is lifted from its beast

The contents emptied out and back from greatest and to least

And then when it’s accounted for and none has disappeared

They call me to their side and just as I had feared

They tell me they would go alone and I must guard the loot

And woe betide if any ounce or drop or strip or shoot

Should be astray when they returned from meeting with the king

And be assured that they would check by counting ev’rything.

So much for trusting me I thought.  These wise old fools have need

Of simple kindly sentiments to overcome their greed.

Enough of all my bitterness, suffice to say I burned

With anger at their attitudes, but then when they returned

They checked their wealth again and finding it all there

They lay down in their tent to chat and ordered me prepare

A fine repast while they discussed the meeting with the King

Who’d greeted them all friendly like and asked them please to bring

The news of where the new King lay so Herod could perforce

Pay homage to his substitute, preparing in due course

A fitting place for him to dwell and rule the lands around,

But asked them not to tell a soul about what they had found.

Well I’m not wise or learned in books and lack the very things

You need to understand the thoughts of rulers and of kings

But nonetheless I didn’t think that any good would come

Of telling Herod what he asked; instead I just played dumb.

When night fell we were up again and following that star

A few more hours ride they said.  It wasn’t very far.

Not so far on camel’s back I thought.  That’s fine for them

But once more I stayed silent till we came to Bethlehem.

We came upon a humble house, on which the star shone down

The same as many other humble houses in this town.

No battlements upon its roof, no guards beside the door

And yet this was the house foretold, of that we were quite sure.

Lord Gaspar and Lord Balthazar quite lost their dignity

They climbed down from their camels and laughed immod’rately

Outside this little dwelling place wherein was meant to be

The prophesied new Jewish King that they had come to see.

Lord Melchior frowned down on them and in his quiet way

Admonished them to calm themselves; consider how to pay

The rightful homage to a King whose birth had been foretold.

His own intent was to present a humble gift of gold.

The other two could not contain their shock at this proposed

Donation of his worldly wealth and both were quite opposed

To giving up their unctuants and scents so dearly bought

To one whose humble dwelling wasn’t quite a Royal Court

They flounced and sulked and minced about; they just could not be sure,

Till Melchior with firm resolve just knocked upon the door.

Out came a lady, babe in arms, and both looked so serene

That all the lords dropped to their knees as if before a queen.

Nothing came to mind to do and nothing to be said

So I too fell upon my knees and humbly bowed my head.

As if upon a gesture giv’n or at a sound unheard

My lords arose and turned about and then without a word

Approached their mules, still laden down with what they’d valued most

Unhitched them from the caravan and led them to our host.

Each lord unslung the treasure bags to each mule’s great relief

And then to my amazement and my utter disbelief

The frankincense and myrrh and gold were laid before the Child

Who looking down from mother’s arms just raised his hands and smiled.

Well I was still on bended knee when She with holy grace

Asked me to rise and I too saw the Baby’s smiling face.

We said no more but as one man we slowly left that scene

And none of us, not even I, forgot where we had been

King Herod never learned from us where’er the baby lay

And I heard that the family left Judah on that day.

My lords still think a lot it seems and study hard to learn

But now they give away a lot of ev’rything they earn

Melchior no longer hoards his heavy bags of gold,

Lord Gaspar and lord Balthazar unlike the days of old

No longer crave their unctuants and incense as before

Though they still love their finery and keep that all in store.

Myself I still serve Melchior, but he has set me free

And when they all come round to ours I treat them all to tea.

The Dragon (and George)

As today is St. George's day, I thought it appropriate that I post this ditty that I wrote this time last year to celebrate the self same day.  Don't be put off by the fact that it is in rhyme (Shakespeare managed a few of those too), just enjoy the story.  I will say that the story is fundamentally that of the legend of St. George and the dragon, but with one or two embellishments - not least of which is the fact that it is told by the dragon.

The Dragon (and George)

The story of St George is of a brave and noble Knight,

Who saves a Princess in distress by offering to fight

A dragon, armed with nothing but a horse, a shield and spear,

And then, with God upon his side, and therefore naught to fear

He overcomes the beast at last, returns the Maid unhurt

And for these deeds takes this reward: to preach, maybe convert

The town to Christianity, and having thus his say,

He girds himself in red crossed cloak and softly rides away

Well that’s what legend’s telling us about his little brawl.
That’s the story, here’s the truth, from one who saw it all.

George was just a little boy when he came to Honah-Lee.
I was lying in my cave when he first encountered me.
There aren’t so many visit, so I was quite surprised
To be presented with a child so ripe to terrorise.
I started with a little smoke (that often makes them quake)
But this lad kept on coming; not a tremor or a shake.
Next I tried a flash of flame to really make him think
He didn’t even falter once, nor did he even blink
But came and hugged my horny head and scratched behind my ear,
And told me he would be my friend for ever and a year
Well so it was.  We stayed good friends and always kept in touch.
When he was far away from me I missed him very much.
He’d come into my cave at nights; we’d chat until the dawn.
I’d tell him of the hundred years that passed since I was born
He’d tell me of the places he had been since last we met,
And talk of things he dreamed about that hadn’t happened yet.

One day he told about a king with wealth beyond compare,
Whose daughter was a beauteous maid with golden flowing hair.
He warmed his hands upon my breath and then before me laid
A cunning plan to part this king from riches and from maid.
We would arrive at dead of night when all were fast asleep,
And I would roar and be quite fierce and eat up all the sheep.
“OK so far”, I said, “but wait, there’s one thing’s got it beat.
“In spite of what they say you know, us dragons don’t eat meat”
“We’ll hide the sheep” said George at last “and let them think it’s you
“Perception is reality.  To them it will be true.
“Then you declare a comely maid of royal blood’s your taste,
“And if you don’t get one right soon you’ll lay the land to waste.
“Along I come and tell the king that I’m the man to rid
“His kingdom of the nasty worm, and then I’ll make my bid
“For half his wealth, his daughter’s hand and named as his sole heir
And we will live in luxury without a single care.”
“Hold on,” says I “Am I the worm referred to in this plan?
“You know that as we’re firmest friends I’ll help you if I can,
“But do I have to be a worm?  It seems to denigrate.
“My pref’rence would be ‘dragon’ when you two negotiate
“The terms of my demise and then the dowry for your bride,
“And hopefully, for me, a little something on the side.”

The planning done and terms agreed we flew away anon,
Arriving in the dead of night when all the folk had gone.
We rounded up the sheep and put them in a lonely byre,
And then I landed on a hill and roared and breathed out fire,
Demanding princesses for lunch and threatening the worst
And trying to assure the King that all his land was cursed.
Our George meanwhile gained audience and followed up his plan:
Convincing of his Majesty that he’s the only man
That can defeat this dreadful worm (He really did mean me),
And happy to achieve this feat for one quite modest fee.
These terms set out in simple words, he waited for assent,
But got instead a swift repost and major ego dent.
The King it seemed was not so green as he had seemed to be
And called the bluff of our brave George, and by extension me.
He staked his pretty maiden girl upon a far off hill,
And sent a challenge back to me to do just what I will.
Well I have no more appetite for maidens than for sheep,
So I slunk off a mile or so to sooth myself in sleep.
When I woke up I found that George was standing by my side,
And with him was the Princess that he wanted as his bride.
He said he needed help again to make his dream come true,
And while I listened carefully he told me what we’d do.
He tied a rope around my neck and led me into town,
I walked as if I was subdued, my head was hanging down.
The Princess held his hand so tight and looked at him with eyes
That brimmed with adoration for the man who’d cut her ties.
The three of us took up our place in front of City Hall,
The crowds were gathered in the square and George addressed them all
“You people see what I have done that your fine King denied.
“I have subdued this fierce beast and maybe could have died,
“Your beauteous Princess I have saved from dragon’s tooth and claws,
“The Lord thy God was on my side and He alone ensures
“That you will live in peace and love and never want a thing,
“He only gives He does not take unlike your greedy King.
“And as a sign of His good faith to show His love is deep
“He has performed a miracle and has returned your sheep”.
At this the crowd all bowed down low and praised our God on high,
And even I (who knew the truth), a tear came in my eye.

We flew away that afternoon.  The sky was blue and clear,
We made good time with chasing wind.  Of course we had no fear
Volcano dust would bring us down or interrupt our flight.
We just flew back and soared away at dragon cruising height.

When Honah-Lee came into view I felt a twinge of joy,
Adventuring is very well if you’re a headstrong boy
With confidence and fighting talk and actions of the brave,
But dragons like their comforts too: a warm and cosy cave.

I never went with George again. He still roamed far and wide
Righting wrongs and telling folk to keep God on their side.
I heard he’d died in foreign lands when fighting in some wars
That some smart politician was convinced was in God’s cause.

That was many years ago but still I can recall
How one man and a dragon tried their best to fool them all.
It’s true that even though the plan was daring and was bold
We didn’t come back laden down with rubies and with gold
And nor did George win fair maid’s hand (she didn’t want to leave)
But I know it was all worthwhile for what we did achieve:
My George was made a saint and came a champion of the poor,
And I have made a fortune from this well-paid lecture tour.

Hong Kong Pontoons

I wrote this fragment fairly recently and may still develop it into a full blown story. It has a hanging ending and although I am pretty certain what the characters are likely to do next, I am not absolutely sure (and by next I mean in the medium term future, not the immediate future - that would be too obvious). Anyway, if any of you have any ideas, let me know.

“What do you mean you don’t know my name?”

She rolled off the bed away from him. She felt a bit woozy and could feel the beginnings of a headache. The man (or really just a boy she thought to herself) just lay there propped on one arm watching her.

“So you’ve forgotten my name already, is that what you’re telling me?” she said

“No, I’m afraid you never introduced yourself last night”

"Of course I did! You just weren’t paying attention.” (Is that true? Did I drag this boy back here without introductions?).

“You had had quite a lot to drink.”

“And you hadn’t?”

“Well no. I was driving so I was only on soft drinks”

“What were you doing in that pub then?”

“I’d just popped in for directions”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“No really. I’d just bought myself a little camper van and was trying to get out to Hampstead Heath to spend the night, and had lost my way. I went into the pub to ask directions. While I was there I bought myself a ginger beer and was sitting at the bar minding my own business and quietly drinking it when you flounced over.”

“Flounced! I’ve never flounced in my life!”

“Well whatever you want to call it, you rushed up to the bar and plonked yourself on the bar stool next to mine”

The manboy, seeming to sense her unease, pauses in his narrative and stares at the ceiling again.

“Perhaps I was a bit drunk. I’m usually very careful when I’m out with people from the office. There was this guy John West who has been trying to get me into bed. I was just wondering if he spiked my drink.”

She lay down beside him apparently unaware of the irony of the fact that she was now in bed with a strange man, and stared at the ceiling with him. He turned his head towards her.

“I thought he looked a bit fishy” he said, trying to break the tension of the last few moments.

“ha ha” she said with a voice loaded with irony “I was afraid you didn’t do jokes – and I think I was right”

“I imagine that with a name like that he’s heard it plenty of times before” he leaned up on his elbow and looked down on her. “How are you feeling now?”

“No better than I deserve to” she said. “I’m sorry I got grumpy with you. Some of last night is coming back to me now. I probably did flounce”. She smiled a wry smile.

“Whatever.” he said “Do you want me to fill in any other bits?”

“Oh OK then, but I reserve the right to shut you up if I don’t like the way it’s going”

“Of course. That sounds very fair”. He looked away.

“Are you taking the piss?

“Me?”

“Yes you” she said and pushed him onto his back.

He lay down with his head close to hers and they both stared up at the ceiling.

“Well, as I said, you flounced up to me at the bar” she aimed a dig at his ribs with her elbow “Ow. I turned to look at you. You caught me looking and asked me somewhat aggressively if I found anything interesting. I remember that, because I wanted to say that I found you very interesting, but felt that perhaps it wouldn’t have gone down particularly well under the circumstances.”

“It would have been a bit corny”she said “but.....” she let the words trail off.

“Anyway, the barman intervened and said that I had come in looking for directions to Hampstead Heath. He was from Albania or somewhere and didn’t know London very well. You said that if I got you out of the pub you’d show me the way, and that in a nutshell was what happened”.

He paused and she continued to look at the ceiling. Her sick feeling had subsided somewhat but she still had a headache.

“That doesn’t quite explain how I managed to get to my flat if I was directing you to Hampstead Heath.”

“OK then. Firstly it turned out that you had no idea how to get to Hampstead Heath...“

“I didn’t think I did” she interjected

“...and that you just wanted an excuse to get out of the pub. Then you said that I could drive you home and we could look it up on the map. You told me to head for signs to The Angel and then promptly passed out. I had to wake you a few time before we got here.”

It was beginning to come back to her now. She couldn’t remember the journey at all, but she did remember arriving outside her door and him helping her up the steps to her flat.

“OK that explains how you got here, but it doesn’t explain how you and I ended up lying naked in my bed.”

He looked over to her.

“Do you really want to know?”

“I guess not. Just tell me, is there anything I need to be embarrassed about?”

“I will tell you that once you had got undressed, you scrambled under the covers next to me, hugged the pillow and fell fast asleep. I’m not sure if you need to be embarrassed about that”

“What did you do?”

“I lay awake for a bit watching you sleep then went to sleep myself.”

They lay on their backs for some time in companionable silence gazing at the ceiling immersed in their own thoughts.

“In Hong Kong they have these pontoons moored in the bay. You can swim out to them and sunbathe. I have this fantasy of swimming out during a typhoon and lashing myself to the pontoon as the wind and rain beat around me”. She continued to stare at the ceiling as she said this, almost as if she were imagining the scene. “Of course I’ll never do it, but that’s the way with fantasies isn’t it, you never achieve them; if you did they wouldn’t be fantasies any more”.

“What makes you think you can’t achieve your fantasies?” The manboy (Oh God what was his name?) leaned forward slightly as he spoke. “After all what’s stopping you?”

“Oh you know, nothing much, my job, my rent, my other debts. You wait, it’ll come to you soon enough and you’ll look back on this moment and remember”

The manboy rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

“I was planning to take a bit of time before I got a job and wander around the Med in my camper van. Would you like to come?”

“How long’s a bit of time? I have some holiday due, but I can only take 2 weeks at a time” she said

“No, no I mean take as long as it takes, a year, maybe more, maybe less”

“And my job, rent, debts? Who takes care of those?”

“Dunno” he said “If you didn’t live here maybe you wouldn’t need a job.”

(Bloody hell was I ever this simplistic when I was his age)

“So how would I eat? Where would I sleep? How would we get about?

“I’d look after you”

He was still lying naked on the bed and staring at the ceiling. (He’s very beautiful, lean, not over muscled, but fit. Long legs nice face, soft and gentle voice). He turned over onto his side again and reached out for her as she lay next to him. He stroked her hair gently and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Hey you, just because we’re lying here in bed naked doesn’t mean you can take advantage of me you know” she smiled.

“The thought never crossed my mind” he said “I’m serious about the offer though. I would like the company and there’s room enough for two in the van”

She wasn’t sure if she should be offended by the lack of romance in the offer.

“It’s nice of you to invite me but I really don’t think I can” (Why not? Think about it. Why not?)

“OK. I just thought....you know...it might be nice just to travel together”

“You have absolutely no idea what I would have to give up to do that”

She turned away from him

“Do you have no responsibilities? No don’t answer that. You obviously don’t. I have a responsible job in a position that I have worked hard to achieve and I am firmly on the ladder to success. This job was exactly what I had planned in my 5 year plan and I have no intention of giving it up just on a whim”

The manboy just lay there leaning on his elbow while she delivered this tirade, the few inches between them now a gulf.

(Why am I so mad at him? I know why I’m mad at him. It’s because in its senselessness, going away with him makes so much sense. I’m being ridiculous. Or maybe I’m mad because he just wants me for company.)

As if in answer to her thoughts he said

“So those were your colleagues from your job that you were drinking with last night”

She looked over her shoulder at him

“Yes. Why?”

“Just...well...they seemed a bit dull”

“It’s a firm of accountants! What did you expect, jugglers and an impromptu high wire act?”

He flinched a bit at this rebuke, but stretched out his hand and touched her hair.

“Do you enjoy it there?”

“What’s not to enjoy? I’m senior secretary to the senior partners. I make appointments for them with clients, book flights and hotels for their foreign business trips, type letters to some of the captains of industry. I live my exciting life vicariously through them”. This last was said ironically as if with a sudden realisation of what she had outlined.

He said nothing. She turned back to face him and lay on his outstretched arm.

“I can’t leave all this behind”she explained “It’s taken me a long time to reach this position and I’m earning good money and have a good life. I go out when I want and where I want, I run my own car and have this nice little flat in the middle of Stoke Newington (OMG why is Stoke Newington so important). It would take years to get it back. I can see places when I take my holidays. I get an extra day’s holiday every year I stay at the company.....” She let the words trail away, realising that she was justifying this life to herself not to him.

The manboy rolled over onto his back, reached out for her and pulled her to him. She felt like crying but snuggled her head into the warm hollow between his shoulder and his neck.

They lay this way for some time before he spoke.

“If you don’t like working there, then what’s the point of it all? It takes up most of your time and you try to make the most of what little time is left. I’m just suggesting that you might leave it for a while and enjoy yourself a little more.”

"But I do like working there”. (No I don’t) she protested

“No you don’t”. 

It was a flat statement from him, and she knew that any further protestations would be pointless.

“But that doesn’t mean I can just leave and go galavanting around wherever with you.”

"I think you should consider it a little more. We wouldn’t have to leave immediately. You’d have time to get your things in order.”

She found herself wondering if it was really possible. Could she really just hand in her notice for the job and the flat and disappear? Maybe she could after all.

“I’ll think about it”

“OK let’s make a decision by next Friday”

“OK” she said feeling sleepy in the comfort of his arms around her.

“But right now” he said “What is your name?”